


Demon Spawn

by Steel_Feather



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon hybrid, F/M, Here there be vampires, I wrote this when I was 12 okay PLEASE don't judge me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steel_Feather/pseuds/Steel_Feather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can steal the stars and the moon<br/>She can kill you with a wink of an eye<br/>She's not like those other girls who fall in love the very first time.<br/>She's so young, she's old enough for me,<br/>And she's so shy, it's a love that I'm gonna see.</p><p>Introducing a woman who knows more about the Winchesters than they'd like her to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deals with the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I recently realized that I've never posted any of my fiction to AO3, so here goes! Just as a disclaimer, this story is not my best work, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! 
> 
> Set sometime in Season 8.

The footsteps were quiet, but I could tell he wasn't trying to be. It would've been a wasted effort with me anyway. And stealth wasn't Darius' style in any case. He would want me aware, frightened.

I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

"What do you want?" My usually low, melodic voice was carefully modulated and splintering with ice.

"Why didn't you finish the job?"

I smoothly unfolded from my sitting position, rising in one liquid motion. Anyone observant would recognize it for what it was: the grace of an experienced predator. The tension inside me was invisible as I turned to face him. "Send me on a different one."

"You backed out. You didn't even try." He was almost talking to himself, and my stone heart sank in my chest a little. "You know what that means..."

He looked up at me then, and I clenched my jaw. I had once, for a brief moment, thought him handsome. But that was before his behavior eradicated any thoughts of his looks. "Give me another chance. You know they would have destroyed me. I can serve you in other ways."

His eyes darkened. "Beg me."

"Please," I said, past pride. "Please, it's not his fault. I'll do anything."

"It's too late," Darius bit out harshly. "Watch."

I froze as he started displaying a video on the big screen monitor. No. No. _NO!_ My beloved brother, Logan, was on the screen. His curly blonde hair was matted with blood, his face and body disfigured by swelling and vicious-looking bruises. His big gray eyes were filled with wild terror as Darius' blood-sucking lackeys closed in on him, licking their lips. Then he looked straight at the camera, seeming to focus for a moment.

"I love you, Jett," he choked out.  
A wrecking ball destroyed everything inside me as I watched the vampires on screen brutally murdering him. He tried to be brave, but he wasn't as strong as I was, and I was further tortured by his stifled grunts and muffled screams of pain. I went numb, unable to fully comprehend what I was watching until they stepped back from my sweet, helpless baby brother, who wasn't moving. I couldn't see him breathing.

"Yeah, he's dead," Darius taunted. "And you only have yourself to blame."

I whirled on him. "I will make sure you die slowly. I will send you back to hell where you belong."

"You won't get the chance," he replied. Vampires started swarming into the huge room, filling it, while more waited outside the doors. "Consider your contract... terminated." And with a final smirk, he turned and left.

I sized up the horde facing me. There were probably at least a hundred strong male vampires, and they all looked thirsty for my blood. The numbness started to fade, leaving behind a devastating tidal wave of rage and sorrow. I let the anger fill me up until I felt I couldn't contain it anymore, bursting with unearthly wrath. The power flowed into my limbs, suffusing me with a dark, sinister glow.

"Who's first?" I snarled.

Immediately, they surged forward. I let myself go in a frenzy, snapping necks, ripping arms and legs and heads off, crushing chests. I growled in triumph whenever another monster fell, feeding the one within me. Faces started to blur together; I killed faster and faster as my brain stopped forming rational thoughts. Corpses started piling up around me, thrown against walls and shoved out of the way.

Eventually the tide turned. I started to accumulate injuries; my body trembled with fatigue. I fought doggedly on, determined to take them to hell with me. Even so, I became unable to move fast enough, and I was hit again and again, claws ripping through my clothes to leave ragged cuts which bled freely.

Suddenly, my wrists were snagged by a grip of iron, curved claws slicing into my skin. He dragged me to the floor, and immediately three more climbed on top of me, latching into my throat with their filthy fangs and sucking, _hard._

I fought them, but my body had become heavy, leaden. I couldn't even kick them with enough force to make a difference. Betrayed by my not-quite-human body. I struggled to suck in air to fuel my curses, until I was reduced to panting shallowly, just trying to stay conscious for a few more seconds. My vision started to fade to gray.

Through a wall of white noise, I vaguely heard a few heavy thuds and bangs, and I distantly registered fangs being ripped out of my throat. I groaned inwardly, assuming that it was a fight for my blood, and tried to move away while they were distracted, failing miserably.

Then a warm hand cupped my neck, covering what I knew were ragged holes. I shuddered, not wanting to be kept captive for future sport.

"Please," I gasped. "No..."

"Sam, put pressure on that."

_That voice... what the hell?_

"Just... leave it. Don't... deserve it..." I tried to tell them.

"Stop talking," he ordered tensely.

"Begging... you..."

Then everything mercifully went black.


	2. The Enemy of My Enemy...

I fought to stay in the dark. It was warm and gentle, and I couldn't remember the pain that had driven me there. The outside world was persistent, though, dragging me to the surface.

I was in a hospital bed. I could feel the cheap mattress and hear nurses gossiping in the hall, smell antiseptic and drugs and human fear and sadness. I could also hear a pair of strong, steady heartbeats next to me. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.

"What are you?"

I met his eyes. "Dean," and to his brother: "Sam. I'm Jett."

"You're not human," Dean bit out. "So _what_ are you?" He held a bottle of water up, poised to throw.

"Holy water won't hurt me, you know."

He splashed me with it anyway. Steam started rising off me in curls, but I couldn't feel it. "That was a waste."

Sam was staring at me, obviously puzzled. "How...?"

"I'm half human. This is my real body," I explained.

"Like an Antichrist?"

"Not that kind of half," I replied.

He didn't look reassured. "There's so much about this that doesn't make sense."

"Let me put it this way. You know how demons have to possess a human body to walk the earth?"

They nodded.

"What if a demon could create her own vessel? Her own, human, body?"

Dean stared at me, while Sam shifted uneasily.

"She was my mother," I whispered. "She seduced a human man."

"So you're a half-breed freak," Dean summarized.

"Thank you," I shot back sarcastically.

"But why did a bunch of vampires attack you?" Sam asked.

I picked at the thin blanket, not meeting their eyes.

"Answer the question," Dean barked.

"I... made a deal. With a demon named Darius. The vamps worked for him."

"What was the deal?" Sam.

"That I would be his personal assassin for a year. It was almost up."

"So, why...?"

"I didn't do a job," I spat out defiantly. "Do you want to know who I wouldn't kill?"

They were silent, waiting.

"You two. You were my assignment."

They looked at each other.

"Look, I'm _grateful_ for your help," I bit out. "But if you don't mind, just make a decision already. Kill me or leave me."

"I don't think so." Dean. "No, you're going to stick with us for a while. There's something you're not telling us."

"That's personal. And I'm not gonna just spill my life story because you ask, okay?"

A long, tense moment passed.

Finally Dean said, "I know how we can learn more."

I glanced up. "What?"

"Cas. He can look at your soul. What do you think, Sam?"

I shrank into myself. _An angel?_

"Let's get her out of here first."

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, then stood. I had already healed from my earlier altercation. "I don't like this at all."

"Too bad," Dean replied.

I froze, battling embarrassment. "Um... I don't have any clothes, do I?"

They looked at each other quickly. "You were out for twelve hours. Sam got you clothes."

Sam handed me a plastic bag; I found black cargo pants and a white tank top inside. "Uh, thanks." I darted into the bathroom and changed quickly, then looked in the mirror. I was tall for a girl, about 5'10", with straight black hair, pretty features, and golden amber eyes. I had a muscular hourglass figure. All of it came from my mother, and I hated my reflection.

As soon as I was ready, I stepped out, wishing all this was just a twisted nightmare. That Logan was still alive and I wasn't taking orders from two men who instinctively despised me. Above all, that I wasn't headed to see an angel, who would probably try to kill me. It was no comfort that there would be none who mourned me.

Sam and Dean were quiet as we slipped past the nurse at the door and walked to the Impala. None of us felt like chatting. As soon as Sam pulled out of the parking lot, I curled up on the backseat and closed my eyes, settling in for as long as the drive lasted. For the first few minutes, I heard them quietly discussing where to head next-- something about avoiding Darius for now. Then I drifted off, craving oblivion.


	3. Touched By An Angel

When we pulled into one of the seedier motels in Chicago, it seemed inevitable. I nearly sighed in resignation, knowing that my sensitive hearing would pick up on the cheap hook-ups and one-night stands. Listening to sex wasn't really my thing. But I was too wound up to care much.

I walked in between the brothers, behind Sam and in front of Dean. They didn't try to talk to me, possibly because they still felt awkward about the conversation in the car.

When we reached a room on the top floor, I was pushed into a seat, though not roughly; Dean seemed deep in thought about something. I sat quietly, fighting a rising sense of dread. Every demon instinctively feared angels, even the fallen kind. It didn't matter that I knew he couldn't kill me as he might another demon. He could still hurt me, and I wasn't the kind to embrace physical pain.

When Sam handcuffed my hands behind my back, I didn't resist. They called for Castiel, and I tried to retreat deep into my mind, to my happy place. I wasn't having much luck.

"Hello."

My head snapped up. Castiel was standing in the doorway, looking at the boys. Dean drew him aside and told him what he wanted in a whisper, unaware that I could hear every word. I cringed slightly when he asked him to touch my soul.

"Okay," Castiel agreed, then walked toward me. I held myself still, looking him in the eye.

"This will hurt," he warned, and then he reached inside me.

I was braced for it, but it still ripped me open to my core. Burning, tearing, agonizing pain assaulted me. I clenched my teeth against the terrible pain, biting back screams worthy of the pit. He was cautious, obviously not wanting to cause my soul to explode. I could've told him it wouldn't happen, but I was busy restraining my reaction to the agony.

When he was finished, I sagged against the chair. He pulled the brothers aside.

"I've never felt anything quite like it. Her soul is exactly half human, half demon," he said in low tones. "The two halves have grown together and intertwined until there is no way to separate them."

"Is she... inherently evil?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"It seems that she's bipolar, in a way. At any time, she could swing between her separate halves. And there's no way to tell what her triggers are beforehand." He frowned. "You are playing with fire here."

Dean and Sam looked at each other for only a couple seconds. "We'll keep an eye on her," Dean said. I sighed, not sure which outcome I had wanted.

When I looked up again, Castiel was gone, and they were looking at me.

"I'm going to uncuff you," Sam told me.

"No need," I replied, then superheated the metal with my mind until it snapped. I brought my hands forward, absentmindedly rubbing my wrists where I had chafed them earlier, while Castiel hurt me.

They stared at me.

"I have a few tricks," I told them. "But if you're willing to keep me alive, you should know what my 'trigger' is."

"What is that?" Dean asked, arms crossed.

"Anger," I replied. "But it's still a bit hard to predict."

Sam cocked his head to one side.

"I don't necessarily go wild every time I'm angry... I just know that I'm always mad when it happens. That's all the help I can give you with that."

"Dean, I hate to say this, but she's a ticking time bomb. Why do you want to keep her around?"

I looked at Dean with wide eyes. He scanned me from head to toe, and my body went cold and hot at once, mistakenly taking it as an appraisal.

"I don't know," he said, "but I don't think it'd be right to just kill her. I don't even know if we could."

I stood up, wanting to shake off my strange mood. "I'm hungry. I can treat you... there's a diner down the street."

"How do you have money?" Dean asked sharply.

"I have a specific skill set which happens to be very valuable," I replied. "A good hit woman is expensive."   

"A professional killer? That's just great, Dean." Sam looked exasperated, and I stifled a chuckle. The expression looked funny on him.

"I wasn't killing innocents, boys. I _am_ allowed to pick my own jobs."

When they didn't answer, I sighed. "I really am starving. So if you want to keep an eye on me, you'll come with me. There's a meal in it for you."

I turned and headed for the door. After a beat of hesitation, they followed, and I smirked to myself. I could tell they didn't completely distrust me, but they were obviously puzzled... my smile disappeared. I didn't want them to know everything about me.

The food was okay, but the awkwardness started to fill the empty air about halfway through the meal, and I noticed they would tense a little any time I leaned over the table for my drink or salt and pepper. It made me feel... strange. I was used to frightening people, but I actually _wanted_ them to relax around me. The whole thing was confusing.

When I was finished, I tossed a couple large bills on the table and walked out, knowing they would follow me. Back at the hotel room, I turned to face Dean, then sat on one of the beds.

"Okay," I sighed. "There are a few things I can tell you."

The two of them sat on the other bed, facing me. I glanced down at my hands. "First, I'm a child of prophecy."

"A prophet of the Lord foretold _you?_ " Dean looked incredulous.

"Hell has prophets too," I retorted. "Azazel, Lilith, and Crowley all had the same vision of me. The circumstances of my birth, my unusual abilities, certain things which they say I am destined to do. What can kill me. It's the reason my mother was treated with such care. She was important because she was destined to bear me."

Sam stared at me in horror. "What were you meant for?"

"I was supposed to be Lucifer's right hand. His ultimate weapon, a servant to be kept by his side. A trump card, if you will."

"Then why weren't you there when he rose?" Dean asked.

"Before the first seal was broken, I murdered my mother. I had discovered she was manipulating me toward that end, and I was still human enough to hate her for it. Then I went on a demon-killing spree to demonstrate my unwillingness to play my role." I winced a little, and Dean shifted, trying to read me. "The consequences were unpleasant. I was in hell when he rose; they didn't want me to prevent it. The plan was to throw my soul back into my comatose body once he had possessed Sam, so I would be unable to stop anything."

"How long were you in hell?" Dean.

"Around two centuries. I escaped when Lucifer was thrown back into the box. Hell was chaos for a time."

"You said something about 'what can kill you,'" Sam commented. "So you can't be killed like any other demon? Or human?"

"No. You could behead me right now, and within five minutes, I would be whole again. And a powerful, pissed-off demon mutant to boot. There is only one way to kill me, and it will never work. Not now."

They stared at me for a moment.

"No," I said, in response to the unspoken question. "I won't tell you my Achilles heel."

"Yeah, I can't say I blame you," Dean almost sighed.

"What are your abilities?" Sam asked.

I considered for a moment. "You know, I don't mind telling you that. I'm faster and stronger than any human, for one, and every one of my senses is about a hundred times stronger. On Earth, I am more powerful than any demon, but in hell I'm weaker than all of them. And I might as well be Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

"Not gonna argue that," Dean commented. "You were pretty fierce when you went off on all those vamps."

"Yeah, well, she and I were working together on that one. We were _both_ angry. Usually she just takes over in those situations, and I lose my say in the matter."

"She?"

"My demon half."

"You're separate?"

"Yes and no. She and I have separate voices inside my head, but we agree on a few things." I glanced at their incredulous faces. "And no, I'm not crazy."

Finally, they nodded.

"So, what now?" I asked.

"More vampires are headed to the area, apparently." Sam replied. "We think it's because of you."

"Obviously," I snorted. "Darius won't rest until he has my head on a silver platter. The moron doesn't realize he can't kill me."

I realized their plan a moment later. "Take me with you," I said, trying to disguise a slight pleading note.

They looked at each other.

"I'll just follow you if you try to restrain me," I stated quickly. "This way, you can keep an eye on me. Save yourself some time and effort."

"Dean--"

"She's right, Sam. It'll be quicker this way."

I nodded gratefully at him, ignoring a quick stab of anger in my gut. Damn vamps.


	4. Uncomfortable Truths

The building was old, abandoned, and dark. It was also huge.

"I smell them," I said tersely. "There are twenty-seven spread throughout the place. One is stronger than the rest. Not an alpha, but he has a massive heat signature. He's mine." The last part was almost a growl. I knew this scent.

They looked bemused, but let my claim stand. Dean tried to hand me a machete, but I shook my head.

"I don't need it," I replied, smiling wide enough to showcase my canines, which lengthened and sharpened in preparation for bloodshed.

He stared at me blankly for a moment. "I'd prefer if you used this."

"Well, since you asked so nicely, handsome..." With that, I winked at him, grabbed the machete, and sprinted for the front door. I heard a muttered curse behind me, then two sets of heavier footsteps, fading as I outran them.

For every vampire I took down, I left one for the two of them to kill. I knew they couldn't handle as many as I could, but I didn't want to risk letting _him_ escape. He had to pay.

I barely caught him. I'm sure he would have been a challenge for many, but I merely smacked his head into the wall to knock him unconscious. He would be our information source, I decided, and then I would kill him slowly.

It only took the boys about fifteen seconds more to catch up, and I verified by scent that they had finished off the other thirteen. No loose ends.

To their credit, they were hardly sweating. Dean looked at me questioningly.

"Information," I returned shortly.

Just then, the filthy vamp stirred. His eyes opened, and when he saw me, he smirked to himself. He was brave, I realized. I would make sure he felt fear before I allowed him to die.

"I knew you'd come for me," he said. "Demon bastard."

"Who are you to talk?" I retorted. "You're just a blood-sucking parasite with a superiority complex."

"Snappy. Your brother didn't have your attitude," he replied. "He was helpless, weak and afraid."

I growled, trying to put a leash on my temper. I was aware of a red haze at the edges of my vision.

"What?" Dean asked sharply. Then, to the fang: "Were _you_ the one who...?"

He ignored him. "You should have heard the screams. The pleading. The broken little whimpers when he couldn't talk anymore." He inhaled sharply. "It was like beautiful music."

I clenched my fists. _She_ was dangerously close to the surface, demanding that I make him pay in every way possible, and I wasn't even sure I wanted to fight the compulsion. I was starting to doubt that I could.

"What's the matter?" The vampire asked slyly. "Didn't you love your brother? Or did you secretly _want_ this to happen? Maybe you felt relief when we ripped him apart as you watched..."

"He was _everything_ to me!" I screamed, letting her take over. A blast of energy radiated outward from me, knocking the worthless animal to the ground. In the next instant, I was on him, clawing into him, prolonging the pain.

_Rip. Hack. Bite. Burn._ She was incoherent with rage, animalistic in attack. I felt my hands rip his chest open as he screamed in fear and agony. I drank it in for a moment, then drew my machete back and hacked, taking six strokes to decapitate him when I could've easily severed his head with just one.

_Too quick,_ she whined. I stood up-- but my actions were not my own. She retained control, as both of us were still in a murderous rage. We turned to the Winchesters.

They were eyeing us cautiously, bemused. I felt her smile on the inside, heard her plan, and I fought against her. But she had me. And my emotions weren't going to calm anytime soon.

"Sam," she purred, her voice more sensual and throaty than mine would normally be. "Dean. I've been wanting to talk to you, boys. But she wouldn't let me out to play... until now." She licked her lips, sizing them up.

"What do you want?" Dean asked.

"I want you to _know,_ " she hissed, angry now. "I want to tell you what she's been holding back, so you can see what she gave up. For _you._ "

They didn't answer, clearly at a loss.

"She was thrown in hell because she was trying to save _you_ from your 'destiny.' She lost her only family because she wouldn't kill _you._ She killed her own mother for you and spent two centuries in the pit. _Two centuries,_ boys. Do you see what it has done to her? What she sacrificed?!" Her voice rose nearly to a roar by the end.

"We didn't know," Sam began, clearly searching for an excuse.

"Silence! I wasn't finished," she snapped. "And one of you _does_ know," she continued, glaring at Dean. I struggled harder, dread seeping into me.

He stared at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you don't remember us?" She was practically glowing with rage. "That's convenient, since we spent three months on _your_ rack in hell, Dean. You don't recall? We didn't cry or scream, not once. Just little broken sounds, a couple of whimpers or mewling kitten sounds to tell you if you did something _really_ painful. And you learned to listen for those indicators. You were very good at finding our sensitive spots. No one came close to hurting us like you did. It was almost an art form. It was _you_ who broke her in the pit. We used to be a team! We were _warriors!"_ She was snarling. "Now she tries to stuff me down deep, because she is _still_ broken. We are two halves of a whole, and I don't want to fight with her. But I'll be _damned_ if I let you forget what you did to us."

"I remember you." The admission was hoarse, his face stricken.

_"Good,"_ she purred. "You deserve to know why she fears you. She told you we can't be killed."

"Yeah, she did," Sam answered. Dean was just staring at us.

"She can _still be hurt,_ " she snarled. "And it would be just like hell all over again, because she would _never die._ Do you understand yet?"

They nodded mutely.

Our anger started to fade, and I fought to the surface slowly. As I regained control, she forced me into unconsciousness, and my knees buckled. The last thing I felt was concrete hitting my head.


	5. The Path To Forgiveness

When I next opened my eyes, Sam and Dean had their backs to me, each drinking a fifth of whiskey. We were back in the hotel room, and I was lying on one of the beds looking at the ceiling. I sighed, preparing myself for questions.

Dean turned to me. "Do you remember all that?"

"Yeah."

"Was she... was she lying about anything?"

"...No." I exhaled slowly. "I just... didn't ever really get over it. My experiences in hell were meant to break me, and putting me on your rack was a part of that plan. What better irony than to be tortured by the very man I had been trying to save? And I _was_ angry. But underneath it all, I was just sad... Sad that neither of us had been able to rise above the plans laid for us by smaller minds. I forgave you a long time ago, Dean."

"Still," he replied, "I _am_ sorry."

I stood up and walked over to him; Sam had moved away a bit, probably trying not to intrude. I laid a slender hand on Dean's shoulder. "Thank you," I whispered. "For that."

His eyes widened slightly, and he leaned toward me slowly. My mind froze. Was he going to...?

At the last moment, he pulled back a little, and I stifled a disappointed groan. _I shouldn't have any expectations._

Sam cleared his throat. "What's our next move?"

"Well, I can only speak for myself, but there's a bar nearby that I'd like to go have some fun in."

No one argued.

**. . . . . . .**

 

It was dark and sweaty, nearly a hundred human bodies squeezed into a space that was only meant for about thirty. I could smell excitement and lust, despair and happiness. The music was so loud I could feel it pounding in my bones, and I only had a couple shots before I slipped onto the dance floor. It was irresistible to me. The constant, feverish motion, the utter freedom of dancing as I forgot everything else.

It only took a few moments for a small space to clear around me; even repressing my innate abilities, I was a talented and graceful dancer. A group of men formed a tight circle around me, practically drooling over my body as their dates drifted away in disgust. I was wearing only a skimpy white tank top, ripped-up blue jeans, and knee-high black boots, so I supposed they couldn't be blamed.

I had been dancing for a while when Dean shoved his way into the space with me, glaring at my spectators until they scattered. I stilled, watching as he made his way to me.

He hesitated then. "I, uh... I don't usually dance."

"Okay. I'll just have to make you look good, then, hmm?" I grinned. Before he could protest, I started dancing around him, using moves that I doubted anyone saw very often here. When he grabbed my hands, I took it up a notch. I started practically dancing _on_ him, rubbing up on him in a way that was clearly inappropriate, but he didn't seem displeased. On the contrary, was he... _reciprocating?_ He seemed to be moving even closer to me, until it almost became a reenactment of predator and prey, and _I_ was the pursued.

Before long, my back hit a wall, and he was right there, his breath trekking across my cheek. I inhaled deeply, savoring his masculine scent. He looked me straight in the eye, an unspoken question passing between us, and I nodded slightly. We made our way to the exit, headed back to the hotel room. I remember seeing one statuesque redheaded woman with envy in her eyes, and I assumed she was lusting after Dean until she cast an appreciative glance up and down _my_ scantily clad body and licked her lips. _Ah._

I tucked myself closer under his arm as he nuzzled my neck.

**. . . . . . .**

 

Afterward, I laid my head on his chest, absentmindedly stroking his abdomen. He wrapped his arms around me, and I was content for the next fifteen minutes or so. But then it all started to sink in. I sighed gently and sat up.

He read my change in mood quickly, and sat up next to me, caressing my bare back.

"What is it?" he asked.

I could feel myself blushing. "I, um... This is the first time I've had sex when I wasn't using it as a manipulation tactic. It was never just for pleasure before. I guess I'm not sure how to handle this particular situation..."

He pulled me around to face him. "There aren't a ton of rules about it, Jett. What do you feel like doing?"

I grinned wickedly at him and bit my lower lip.

He winked back and sank into the mattress, pulling me on top of him. "Then just do it."


	6. Moving Forward

The next morning, I was up early, having already showered and brushed my teeth by the time Sam and Dean started stirring. I twisted my hair into a ponytail and sat in the lotus position in a shabby armchair. Then I focused on deep breathing and meditative techniques to communicate with _her._

She answered immediately, sounding throaty and satisfied. _So you finally got around to it? No need to thank me._

_Wait, what are you talking about?_

_I gave you the push you needed. You might as well admit that you've been lusting after him since the moment you first saw him._

_You_ didn't _help._

_Of course I did. I got him to look at you as a person rather than just some demon hybrid. It was for your own good._

_That wasn't your decision!_

I heard her sigh internally. _You're still young; you can't understand the far-reaching consequences of every decision you make. It's your destiny to fall in love with him._

My hands spasmed into fists, easily shredding the cover of the chair. _If that was the case, why wouldn't Lilith, Azazel, or Crowley have seen it long ago and told me?_

_Why in_ hell _would they tell you a prophecy that would work against their own kind?! Obviously, demons don't want you knowing about it. Your bond with Dean would be the last straw against demonkind. The two of you, united? You could finally seal them away. Forever._

_That's all well and good, but why are you only telling me now?_

_I couldn't say anything to you unless you were already on your way to falling in love with him. And besides, you haven't exactly been on speaking terms with me recently. But there's something you have to remember--_

At that moment, I felt a soft pair of lips press against mine, distracting me. I struggled to tune back in to her final words.

_\--You're vulnerable now, you have to be_ very _careful--_

And with that, her voice was cut off short. I opened my eyes to look at Dean, who pulled back slightly and handed me a mug of coffee. I smiled openly at him, letting my happiness wash over me again. And I resolutely pushed her voice away.

"What were you doing?" he asked.

"Just meditating. When I talk with her, she and I can reach a compromise. We can work together. And... we're better together."

"I agree."

I searched his eyes for some hint of deceit, but they were clear. "You really mean that."

"Yeah."

I took a deep breath. "There's something I should tell you, both of you."

Sam came and sat on the bed facing me, his expression pensive. Dean sat next to him so he could see my face better.

"I want to help you seal the gates."

Both of them sucked in a breath. Sam especially tensed, his hand nearly going to the gun I knew was tucked in the back of his jeans. I rushed ahead, trying to placate them.

"I mean it. There's a way I can combine my power to Dean's, and we can seal the gates." I turned to Sam. "It wouldn't even cost your life. We could prevent that, I promise..."

His face hardened a little, but Dean asked me, "Are you telling the truth?"

"I swear it."

"How did you know we were trying to seal hell?"

I flinched a little, but I looked him in the eye and told the truth. "I've had you under surveillance since you returned from Purgatory."

"You've been watching us?"

"Protecting you, Dean. I've been looking out for you. In the past few months, I've killed over four hundred demons Crowley sent."

Sam was almost glaring at me. "How do we know you're not lying?"

"I will give you two tokens of my honor," I replied. I pulled a curved hunting knife from the counter next to me, then sliced a shallow cut down my palm. I held the hand up so that they could see. "By blood, I swear my oath that no untruth passes through these lips. I have given you no falsehood in this matter." As I finished the incantation, a little shuddering power emanated outward, touching the boys lightly, before it returned to me and healed my hand. Even the blood returned into my body.

They both had wide eyes, but Dean spoke first. "What's the second token?"

I inhaled deeply again. "As a show of faith, I am going to tell you the one way I can be killed, so that, if I prove traitor, you can end me.

" 'Only by the hand of love, may she who was conceived in hatred be smote.' It means that I can only be killed by someone I love absolutely and unconditionally."

"That doesn't help us," Sam said. Then he glanced at Dean uncertainly. "Wait..."

I nodded. "I don't know when it happened, but I love him." Dean's eyes were a little wild, so I gently laid a finger on his lips. "It's alright, I don't need the words back. I know that's not something you do easily. But I think you have a right to know."

He sighed against my lips in relief, and Sam turned to me with less anger than before.

"I believe you," he said.

I laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "What do we do now?" I asked.

Dean grinned. "We give Crowley the surprise of his life."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are love. :)


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